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@humanothings
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indieΒ selectiveΒ low-activityΒ multifandomΒ multiverseΒ multimuseΒ roleplayΒ blogΒ byΒ akaashiΒ -Β Β Β Β Β Β Β THISΒ BLOGΒ WILLΒ CONTAINΒ DISCUSSIONSΒ OF : Β Β Β DEPRESSION,Β SUICIDE,Β HUMANITY,Β EMPTYNESS,Β Β Β Β Β IMMORTALITY,Β DEATH,Β MURDER,Β VIOLENCE, Β Β Β Β Β Β Β SELF-DESTRUCTIONΒ ANDΒ Β SELF-HARM.
Is Sasuke single or is he romantically interested in anyone?
!!!!!! haven't gotten an ask in so long, specially anon's interested in anything i do ( must be because i have the worst activity in this hellsite ) thanks babe uwu
sasuke is SINGLE in most of my main verses, including canon iterations. why ? there's a dark deep rage festering and putrid in his chest, rotting everything he touches, igniting every word into flames. he pushes those who love him away, and even more far away those he actively loves. he ignores and hides from himself those little sparks of hope and romance he glimpses, out of fear and desperation. in my canon verses, sasuke is infatuated with naruto, not because he loves him ( they don't know each other that well, after so much time barely meeting ) but because naruto represents everything he wants to give in to. warmth, love, found family, moving on, bettering yourself and being a good person. everything he cannot allow himself to have. my sasuke is NOT in love with sakura, he yearns for the stability and family values that she could bring, being that which he has lost forever, and admires her as a dear friend / pestering fly like naruto.
the only verse in which sasuke has a romantic interest, that he is keen on pursuing and protecting, refusing those thoughts of self-isolation is my LAWYER AU, in which he is extremely in love with @vulpesse's ahri ;))
@foxcurse ; Flinching at the abrupt sound, he bumped his head against the elevated window. Blue eyes hesitated to look up, fearing the daggers that were piercing into him from the shadows.Β Swallowing a lump in his throat, the blonde knew he had to think of something quick since he was caught red-handedβbody already halfway through the window. How was he going to get himself out of this one?
Β Β Β Β β Oh βh-hey, sunshine. I can explain, β he laughed nervously, pushing himself through the window.
WHERE COUNTLESS RESTLESS NIGHTS have been spent obsessing over this and that, there is not a sound that could go unnoticed by the seasoned inspector. he would've been awoken by a pindrop, so is it truly so unconcievable that he would notice this unprompted intrusion into his sanctuary, in the middle of the NIGHT ? he wears the utmost expression of disbelief when he β regulation firearm in his clutched fist, soft silk pijamas clinging to his almost malnourished body, a slight shake on his left leg β sees naruto and his stupid nervous smile.
" EXPLAIN. right now. before i shoot you. " the words are spit out in disdain, yet he lowers the gun nonetheless, free hand running through his disveleshed hair in a frustrated gesture. the usually calm and collected demeanor he has perfectly crafted like a steel-armor shows its cracks under the weight of sleepless hours piling up. dammit, he really needed some rest tonight.
RP BLOGS, TURN THIS OFF IN YOUR ACCOUNT SETTINGS;
A new update rolled out that allows people to blaze your posts. Now, this is fine on paper. If somebody else wants to blaze a post they found funny on your behalf, that's their choice. However, as RP blogs, we don't want some rando mistaking a rp reply for a fanfic or some weird scenario such as that and blaze your post, causing a lot of unwanted attention. Stay frosty.
...im in pain, ive been trying to reach my doctor for a couple of days but its impossible and im in pain. anyways i really planned to write this weekend bc im free but unless i figure this pain out i think im gonna stay laying down and dying for now lmao
@serpentide ; "and i see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips."
" ehe, my poetic ways must've rubbed off on you, serpent. smart words, precious metaphore, incredible use of musicality . . . i give you a six out of ten ! " playful winds twirl and dance carelessly in his every word, barely concealed amusement coloring with youthful blues a perpetually childish façade, contorted into the mockery of a smile. behind mint iced gaze, a bloody secret fragment of himself hides under a blanket of cheer and song, the ancient soul who knows all too well the meaning of the mystical words recited by the snake-haver. taking a sip of dandelion wine, his utmost favorite beverage, venti reminds himself over and over again to not blow his ( already pretty unstable ) cover as his mind scatters and his mouth stutters. " 'tis the performer life, ma'am, cursed but blessed. the holy gift of perfecting a mask, given to us by lord barbatos or whatever. hey, you like that guy ? you know, the anemo archon. . . "
SHADOWS LOOM OVER THE PUPPETEER, shattered masks akin to his arlecchino domino ; they float in compliance, carried by her invisible threads. Just as he is the broken-down puppet, every step taken tearing him apart with confusion / fear / he is a doll following his master. ( Is there any difference between dancing to her tune, to Mori's tune, to Dazai's tune ? ) The permanent scowl he wears has been replaced with an impossibly tense mock of a smile under the mask, lest she not be satisfied with his enjoyment of the mansion's atmosphere. Days. It has been at least three days, unless he blacked out / at night, he never sleeps, and it's becoming a spiraling blur of unfinished light and darkness. With no plan in sight to free from this prison.
HE DOESN'T WANT TO FUCKING READ. RyΕ«nosuke wishes nothing more than regain control of his appendages, and let the black DEATH take over him as the crimson rains on his sickly skin ; is she made of flesh, corporeal enough to rip muscle from bone in a cannibalistic rage ? ( he imagines the fear of his veil, reflected in her frosted eyes, he wonders about the position of her organs, the depth of her skin ) " I enjoy what you enjoy, friend. " the words are forced out of his larynx against his wishes, yet he tries to bite his tongue to stop them. He fails.
πππ ππππ πππ πππ πππππππ ππππππ, πππ ππππ πππ πππ πππππ - π πππ ππππππ [ ... ] πππ ππππ πππ πππ ππππππ. the masks can see through his faΓ§ade with ease, for their jeweled eyes are meant to discern what is otherwise concealed from the perception of mortals: his innermost turmoil is but a source of delight for them, an ugly paradox that is foreordained to be untangled and unraveled by deft hands ( hands that know not how to nurture and care, hands that have learnt how to destroy and spoil everything they touch ) . and thus they laugh, they snicker amidst themselves with a sickly obnoxious fervor that almost manages to summon a whine of infantile complaint from the maiden's throat ; their voices are a blur, each word interwoven with the next in a petulant attempt at keeping their conversation an intimate secret. but they know and thus the mask in his possession knows it too ... and soon enough, that is for certain, the mask - maker shall know about it as well.
β mmh ? don't you have any preference ? β her cadence is suddenly less kindred to a swallow's merry chirps, its edges direly sharpened by a lingering sense of capricious disappointment that tightens the hold of existential darkness around her wilted, rotting heart. she loves it when people comply to her every selfish whim and desire, but ... won't it become tedious, if he no longer makes his voice known, his thoughts heard and his feelings sensed ? it is then, that a twisted kind of cruelty blossoms.
her smile widens, a few hastened steps lead her closer to him. β then forget about reading ! let's play hide and seek ! β a loud gasp comes from the contorted, simpering mouths of her fragmented masks, their anticipation for what is to come almost palpable.
HE REMEMBERS THE FIRST TIME HE FELT FEAR. remembers it vividly, the memories washing over like waves over an empty beach ( it's getting harder to ignore, the feeling of helplessness, the frightened child hiding deep within his ribcage ) it must be the effect of that cursed mask stuck in his contorted façade of happiness, toying with his psyche as it pleases. pulling on the already unraveled threads of his already broken mind, bringing back those pushed down recollections of past times until he is fourteen again and unable to do anything. he can't fucking do anything, loyal beast wraps around him resembling unusual fabric yet it won't move, it won't OBEY HIM. the once-rabid now so easily tamed dog is begining to wonder if it is all a dellusion, if he was never powerful, if he never had control / had made it all up to cope with the reality. if not, then maybe he is dreaming now, perhaps he will be awaken from a deep slumber by a familiar gentle face ( wouldn't be the first time, nor the last ) " HIDE AND SEEK ? " fairly surprised by his own words, he takes a tentative step back, for the interest and curiousity had been geniune in his tone, in the scratchy voice that had come out ; almost as if he hadn't used it in days, even if he had been speaking just a second ago. the roughness in his throat triggers a cough that starts bubbling from his chest up to his mouth / where he desperately tries to hold onto it like uselessly threading water, blood pooling in his mouth behind the mask. the taste of iron brings a familiarity he has no right to escape, a cold tsunami that hits his back with the force of the lives taken, so sudden and real it bends him over. there is not enough strength in him, him, who has not eaten nor slept for three days straight, to contain the clots of gore clawing out of his lungs using as fangs the words that akutagawa has swallowed over and over again. weak knees hit the cold floor underneath his figure, as his left hand instinctively tries to contain the specks of crimson to leave his mouth, right hand supporting the weight of the sickly bag of bones that his body has become.
LORD BARBATOS HAS BLESSED ME TODAY WITH THE CUTEST OFFICIAL ART ? i might be losing it for my babyboy, he is the cutest most sad drunken bard and !!!! the cecilias. . . he planted for his loved ones. . . the pretty lyre. . . i wanna protect him.
officially 23 years old
liminal spaces are a popular uneasy photography trend , humanity tends to be frightened at the face of complete loneliness / when time is infinite, will you never see your loved ones again ? rei wonders, looking at these images over and over again why, just why does it bring so much comfort to her soul ; a place where she could never be replaced, for there is HER and nothing else.
i might have made a sideblog for a very dear muse of mine ΒΏ?
he is my book babie !! would love anyone interested in a beautiful ruthless fae man to follow it please !!!!!!!
i might have made a sideblog for a very dear muse of mine ΒΏ?
he is my book babie !! would love anyone interested in a beautiful ruthless fae man to follow it please !!!!!!!
like this for a birthday ask / starter with akutagawa !!! gotta celebrate us pisces queens !!!
THIS FRIDAY IS MY BDAY!!
THIS FRIDAY IS MY BDAY!!
" C'mon now, @kitsuneas, you must share with me the latest tales, as the head of the publishing house and ancient being, you surely know of them. How else shall a nameless bard such as myself find new stories to entertain ? " lithe young legs cross as he stays gripping the edge of his seat with playful anticipation. Funnily enough, the wind had already carried most of the newly formed legends to his unsuspecting ears, yet an enchanted tale as such must always be heard from the source. " I have heard of many stories tied to the Sakura tree / tragic as it blossoms, I know you have seen / won't you spare and enlighten little ol' me? " he sing-songs his request, a glimmer of amusement brightening up his mint-colored eyes.
THE WAY HE WEARS THE PRISTINE AND EXPENSIVE SUIT LIKE STEEL ARMOR. Squared-up spine straightened and tense in the face of the urgency / desperation in her tone. How have they reached this state of emergency mutual destruction ? When, he doesn't know, yet he has begun to blossom from the ashes of a controlling and obsessed maniac / to the protector, the guardian. From the violent trembles of his left hand he manages to clench his fist - putrid and mouldy rage, ancient in its origin is expertly contained as he takes a decisive step forward ( let it go, let it go, something always screams ) HYPOCRITE, sharing tender stories and giving self-righteous speeches about moving on ; what a fucking joke, when he is an empty decaying carcass of a person, stitched together by designer attire and expensive perfume. And still, he can't get rid of the smell. " Shall we ? " he muses, getting closer and closer to the silk-roben love priestess. It certainly sounds delightful, to leave every mystery and question behind / melt together into a heart-shaped piece of useless metal like in the child story his brother used to tell him. Once upon a time.
" Are you scared for my wellbeing ? I told you, when we started this. . . WE could die, both of us are in danger. Always. " his gaze avoids her / fearful of the million feelings laying out bare in the window of his soul for her to reach and see. The regrets swimming in the deep black ocean of his eyes ; he should've never brought her into this, an innocent civilian. What was he thinking, being so incredibly reckless ? His voice is a rough whisper, colored with the worry and panic he dares not vocalize. " Do you want me to pretend, while we are having this conversation ? I want you to be safe, my intention coming here is not putting you in harm, but keeping you safe. " his arm, still hesitatingly shaking, sneaks around her waist softly.
ππ πππππππ πππ πππ πππππππ ππ πππ πππππ πππ ππ, ππ πππ ππππππ πππ πππππ ππ πππ π ππ - ππππππ ππππ, πππ πππ πππ π πππ πππ ππππππ ππ πππππππ πππ πππππππ [ ... ]Β a moth to the flame is a moth to the flame, nothing more, nothing less. he speaks again, his raucous voice reverberates within the suffocating intimacy of the four walls and demands the entirety of her attention, painting the chamber in plum - like pigments with an apt brush - stroke. and she wishes she could scream, she wishes she could cry, she wishes she could hit him until he finally understands ... she has never been frightened for her life, for she has never given it enough significance and sentimental weight in the first place, she is solely terrified at the idea of what might happen to him, was his mask cruelly removed and his truth spilled from his mouth like ichor.
he protectively embraces her with the gentle motion of an arm and ahri leans closer, unconsciously so, her face burying itself in the crook of his neck ; she dares not to actually touch him nor lean onto him and thus her muscles stiffen and cement into place with a strength she did not know to possess, only her warm breath reaching and thus tickling the exposed flesh of his visibly pulsing throat. β you don't understand, β a whisper, laden in ribbons and thorns, hastily spoken but still perfectly comprehensible to the ear of the other. in another chamber, a record player is turned on, its age - old melody stubbornly passing through every wall and every door in order to echo throughout the majority of the floor ; sometimes it's a simple attempt at keeping one's conversation hidden from prying ears, other times it's an ever simpler attempt at softening voices and cries. for the very first time in her life, this traditional song does not kindle annoyance nor rage within her heart but a sense of fleeting safety and thus, once again, her lips part.
β i could die even now and i would not care, nor would i weep over a life that i have never truly wanted. β a single hand raises, brushes against the refined fabric of his suit only to ultimately settle 'pon his upper arm: her touch is gentle at first, almost even timid, but grows in intensity and possessiveness with each second that stretches between them. β but i could never accept your death, not at the hands of these monsters. you deserve to achieve your goal and find a reason to smile again ... i don't want to hold your cold body in my arms, i want to feel your warmth and the beat of your heart. β
THE FABRIC OF HIS SUIT CRACKLES AND BENDS under the weight of her delicate and fragile hand, yet he feels it deeply sinking into the fat, then the muscle, of his arm, as if it was made out of metal. It reaches bone, grabbing tightly onto his humerus, fearing if the hold was loose enough he would disappear at any given moment ; though it doesn't hurt at all, it does fill him with an electricity he cannot control. Undeserving of her affections, of her worry and care, he utters complete nonsense back that he doesn't even register. Every putrid and rotten self-immolating thought flies from his brain, emptying it in the face of their closeness, so intimately warm. The air she blows on his neck brings goosebumps to his proud spine, and the tightly gripped reigns he used to have in his selflessness are completely lost as his grasp on her waist becomes stronger, more protective. The lawyer almost forgets where they are, the risks involved in their attachment, even the conversation they are currently having. It disappears and he is filled with only Ahri, every movement of her lips / sweetly whispering into the crook of his neck / are burnt into his retina, as he lowers his face to meet with hers, fingers gently pulling her chin towards him.
" How about we both survive, and I give you the life you truly want. The one you deserve. " sharp direct words, uttered in whispers and cold tones as ice blue meets honey-toned eyes, emotions ripe and gloriously present in the ten centimeters between them, breaths intertwinning. His powerful intensity, the obsessive nature of his compulsive personality shining through his every word. " Do you not understand I could never smile again if I knew my endless search for revenge has brought upon your death ? " his hand reaches, insecure, yet more firmly than ever / and caresses her cheek almost imperceptibly. It is not pretending, it never was, for the static travelling upon skin contact begs to differ. " It is a dangerous endeavor. I can't promise you I'll be safe. I can't promise your safety either. " his fingers travel up her cheek to her ear, where he relinquishes the soft touch of her hair. " Yet if we make it alive, promise me, you will be freed from the hatred that consumes you towards this place. I will help you get out. "
